The Morning After
by Shiggity Shwa
Summary: The morning after in three of Vala's major relationships. Second story in a series of eight.
1. A Gentleman's Agreement

_A/N: Just a friendly reminder that each chapter is AU, so they're technically non-connecting despite chapter two being set further in the past from chapters 1 and 3._

 _Also if you haven't read the first part of the series, A Sure Thing, you might wanna start there._

The Morning After

Chapter 1

A Gentleman's Agreement

1.

They're friends. That is all.

It's a stream of light that wakes her. Heavy curtains waft at the window and that irritating light beam dances across her nose and eyes. Finally, she lifts an eye open, a feat of the Gods, and—oh no. Through the muckiness behind her eyes her vision settles on the window, opened, but black curtains pulled closed, the beam of light plays like a kitten across her face and across his hand. His hand is—his hand. Oh no.

She's wrapped up tightly, positively snuggled in fact and she staves off the panic, to be honest it's not even panic, she's not ashamed of what happened, or embarrassed, more concerned that if someone finds out she'll be drafted to another SG team. He mumbles something in his sleep, his lips smack against the back of her head where he rests. She's using his arm as a pillow and his free arm is tucked up underneath her breasts.

Dials back a bit, last night, Friday night, at the complex. No Cupcake Battles. At a bar. A cowboy bar, or a bar for rodentia because there is still hay stuck in her hair. Beers with him and he had a date. He had a date while she had some beers and conversations with the local color, and then his date found him unappealing and she, she didn't at that point. They took a taxi to his house and by the time they pulled up outside her hand was down the front of his pants and he wasn't stopping her, he was encouraging her, and the driver honked his horn to get them out of the cab. He carried her, with her legs wrapped around his waist, to the door and didn't fumble with his key, just opened to a quaint, clean house and onto the couch. But she's in the bedroom. Oh, the bedroom was later.

Finished on the couch and stared at each other a bit mortified not at the act because there was nothing to be mortified about. Both had expertise and shared in the workload. Not at what they'd done, just who they'd done it with. Was it inappropriate?

"Well, this is definitely inappropriate," he told her, pulling out and off of her, she felt uneasy, but they'd both had a lot to drink and both were slowly filtering back into their current situation. So they just sat beside each other, breathing a bit heavy and still sticky and sweaty.

The silence and the breathing became too much and she straightened from her hunched over position, "I should probably go." To her it didn't make a difference, but she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, especially around her, especially on Monday.

"Oh yeah, sure." Clothes shuffling and feet scuffling over his hardwood floors replaced the conversation they should've had. She fastened her bra, her hair falling over her back and when she turned to find her shirt she found him watching her instead.

"Sorry." Apologized immediately, his eyes hitting the ground.

Yanked on her t-shirt and fanned her hair out again. "I think we should have a discussion."

"I think we should wait until we're both sober to have that discussion."

"Does it really matter, Cameron? A few minutes ago we were—"

Held up his hand to halt her sentence and she observed him curiously, why he pulled his shirt back over his head. Then placed a hand to his head where it probably throbbed as greatly as hers. "I know what we were doing a few minutes ago."

Squared her shoulders, ready to rip off the bandy. "Are you ashamed?"

Spun back towards her quickly, "What? Of course not." Then he paused following probable meaning in her questions. "Are—Are you?"

"Not in the slightest, just concerned—"

"About Monday."

"Absolutely."

"Okay, so we're both on the same page, there's no reason we can't handle this as adults."

Somehow between having a coherent conversation about how to handle the postcoital make up of their relationship at work, he ended up kissing her again with his lovely plush lips, just remembers the feel of them coursing over her chin, her neck, her throat.

She's quite relaxed in the cuddle but pressing matters have detoured her from staying within the confines of his arms and the sheets, namely what happened on Cupcake Battles last night and how not to unintentionally spark a round three.

Tired of pretending to still be in a stupor of sleep, she arches her back against him in what should be a morning stretch, but instead of following her lead, his arm across her chest tightens a squish and his knee breaks between her legs.

Rolls her eyes and swivels her shoulders and hips until the movement, or the friction, rouses or arouses him.

"Oh, hey," he greets, his breath still smells of the half a dozen beers he consumed last night, hers must not smell any better. After blinking twice his arm uncoils from around her body, and she hops up free. "Are you heading back?"

"If I can make it out of the house this time." Sends him a coquettish smirk so he knows she's not terribly upset about staying the night, or the second round of magnificent sex they had. It was unique feeling both safe and satisfied at the same time while also having the satisfaction of knowing she was breaking strict rules.

She begins tapping around on the ground for any shred of her clothing, a bra, jeans, a sock, anything.

He sits up, the muscles in his stomach crunch together and she licks her lips without thought. His hand runs through his hair fluffing it up from being slick with sleep. Then places the hand on her shoulder, large, warm, stable and her skin tingles in response. "Clothes?"

"Yes please."

Leans forward and his perfectly sculpted bottom peeks out from under the sheets, there's still visible red lines from where her nails dug in last night.

"Your bra." The light blue unmentionable dangles from his hooked forefinger and she tries to forget how adept he is with his fingers, a hidden talent.

As she clasps it behind her, her back almost touches his as he leans back to pull on his boxers, and her panties fall out from within them. They share a confused expression, and only chuckle as he returns them to her.

"Look, I think we can both agree that the sex—"

"The sex was amazing." Interrupts hopping up and adjusting her panties over her hips and trails his eyes to the location. "You stop that," shoos him away with her waving hands. "We've done this enough."

"Yeah," he agrees, but he doesn't sound enthusiastic, pulls his jeans back on and tosses her shirt to her. She pulls the black material over her head and when she emerges to fan her hair, he's watching her again. "But what if we did it more?"

"Believe it or not, Cameron, I actually still have a roaring headache and I'm rather tired."

"No, no, not now." Sweeps his shirt off the ground and yanks it over his head muffling his words, "But maybe if we ever need to—we could—go to each other."

He carefully unravels her jean leg from the bedpost and tosses the pants back to her. She catches them with one hand, still preoccupied with his proposal, "we could have sex?"

"Yes."

"Amazing sex."

"Amazing sex."

"But not be in a relationship."

"No." Paces around the bed and reaches forward pulling one of her hair clippies from being buried in waves of tussled tresses. "It would be more like stress relief."

"Your idea peeks my interest." Flips her head over and pulls her hair forward, knowing he's confused at her actions, and also remembering how she started him off on the couch last night. Flips back with her hair less tangled and more presentable. She pulls it up into a loose ponytail and slides the clippie in from the side "There will need to be ground rules."

"Of course."

"Both parties need to agree."

"Of course," adds a little stricter than before, his eyebrows furrow.

"I mean no blackmailing, Darling."

"Princess, if I was going to blackmail you, I'd have done it by now." She purrs at him, and arches an eyebrow evocatively, the sense of danger, the take charge attitude an immediate turn on. "No more of that." His hands land on her shoulders as he guides her from the room and she ignores the tinglies he sends again.

"We should probably limit contact at work."

"That goes without saying."

"No, because I'm saying it."

"No, I mean," he groans into his hand, leaning into the hall archway, trying not to let his eyes linger on her while she leans down to lace up her boots. "Just act like you normally do on Monday. I'll do the same."

"Cameron," pauses lacing to send him a face of wide-eyed worry. Her finger keeps slipping up and the knot falls loose. "what if someone finds out?"

"No one is going to find out."

"Samantha and Daniel are rather smart."

"Book smart." Bends at his knee mimicking her stance and retrieves the laces from her hands. His fingers, those skilled digits, twist and fetch until her boot is tightly tied. His face inches from her and this feels more intimate than sex, than tasting him and taking him, just having his breath drift against her makeup smudged face. "I'm telling you, Princess, they'll miss this by a mile."


	2. Holy Matrimony

The Morning After

Chapter 2

Holy Matrimony

2.

Their marriage is one of convenience. That's all it is.

"Good morning my beautiful wife," his voice drifts into her ear warm against the morning chills. Feels the weight of his hand rub against her back and carry their knitted blanket back up to her shoulder. Beyond his scent, of blacksmith oil and a bit of sweat, she smells something baking in their stove, something fragrant that makes the blackhole fetus jolt her awake.

"Mmm," she places a quick peck on his chin and turns on to her back ignoring the pressure in her muscles. How far along is she? She's not showing but she has the stiffness and the morning sickness. If she hadn't been through this once before, she'd have missed the signs entirely. He waits patiently, holding on for her next words. "Good Morning my dear husband."

If he could cheer at her answer he would. Instead he drops to the bed, his backside nestled in the area between her knees and chest. Somehow, despite the neighborhood cock not crowing yet, he's fully dressed and stacked enough wood in the hearth to start a roaring fire. There's a fresh glass of water, and one of what looks to be a coffee, or the equivalent of such, set on his sturdy wooden night stand, well she guesses it's theirs now.

"How did you sleep?" His hand rubs from her thighs to her knee in an attempt to keep her warm and awake.

"Like a baby." The words topple from her mouth before she can stop them, and she wishes she could eat them and then all of whatever is cooking in his, now their, oven.

"I am glad. You certainly deserved a well rest after last night."

They married down at the magistrate's house, a quick thrown together wedding where her gown was quickly crafted using an old tattered dress and one of Tomin's mother's tablecloths, which he was happy to donate in order for her to have a proper train. The town had a small get together in their honor where most women brought a dish they'd cooked and she had seconds of each, the baby was happy, Tomin was happy and when they got home she practically pounced on him in order to seal the deal, or save her life.

"Mmm," She ran her hand through his hair and he relished at her touch, pressing into her like an animal starved for attention. "Last night was very fulfilling." It's not exactly a lie and not exactly the truth. She was fulfilled in the fact that they had had sex for her to pass the baby off as his, but it was his first time and definitely not hers, no where close to hers.

"You preformed very well." A performance is entirely what it was, her hesitation, her curiosity, her letting him take the lead even though she flat out knew he was doing everything wrong. At one point she pushed him back and practically begged him to allow her to take the reins. He seceded and that's where the fun began, and it was fun, there is no lie in that, but sex is hardly ever not fun unless it was with one of her other husbands.

"You flatter me, husband," her fingers still licking at the side of his face, tickling the skin behind his ear.

His fingers ran through her hair, spread it out across the pillows and the gentle tug of movement from her head relaxed her deeply, made her slip back into an unconscious state. "I do not know how you knew to be that pleasurable with this being your first time."

Whoops, forgot about that lie. Eyes snap open and fights to regain her calm composure. "On my home world, it is common for mothers and aunts and even grandmamas to share advice with younger, inexperienced women."

That should explain away everything she did last night, except for that thing she did with her thighs, can ever really explain how she does it, but just knows that it never fails to please. She certainly didn't learn it from her grandmama.

Expects him to ask more about the sex, the moves, her body which is far from perfect, currently housing a trojan horse and covered in all manners of battle scars. Instead his voice softens more, and he directs his eyes towards the hearth. "If you found a method back to your old home world, would you leave?"

He always managed to bifurcate her natures, the thieving free agent who travels around in stolen ships running long cons and stealing from anyone would tell him that if she could go back to Earth, she would be out of his life more quickly than when she fell from the sky. But the way he speaks to her, treats her, cares for her and nurtures her, she's never experienced this type of positive attention, even when on Earth. Knows he would be truly heartbroken if she left him with or without noticed. She owes him her life in more ways than one and if SG-1 came and swooped her away at this moment, she'd make an argument to bring Tomin along.

But she can't tell whole truths yet, after all what marriage is based on truth. Slips her hand inside of his and relaxes when his grip tightens on her. "I have a new home now, Darling."

The answer pleases him so, that he just keeps nodding, his grin growing with each bounce. "I have prepared a delicious breakfast for you."

He stands from the bed and shuffles, with his bad leg, to retrieve her nightgown from where he laid it out on the chair last night, probably during one of his night trips, he doesn't sleep for very often or for long intervals of time which is great news for when the baby arrives. More beauty sleep for her.

Gently places the gown over her head and chuckles to himself.

"What's so funny?' squeezes her head through the hole and slides her arms into the sleeves. Finds his laughter and smile contagious because he's always so serious.

Shakes his head at her, with a hand over his mouth telling her he's not saying a word. "Tomin, I'm your wife now." Prods him in the ribs and he starts to chuckle again, grabbing onto her hand and placing a kiss on the back. Her tone takes a gentler turn. "You don't get to be choosey with what you tell me."

"Forgive me," he chuckles, his lips returning from her hand. "I just cannot fathom how you eat the way you do but maintain your physique."

Oh well that's simple. "I've always been on the skinny side, so I eat the way I do to add a bit of bulk to my figure so should I become pregnant, it won't be a shock to me or the child."

"Pregnant." And the way he says the word she knows he's hooked, pulled enough cons and cuckoo bird games that she knows when she's hit the right heartstring.

Fans out her lashes in innocence and places a hand on his knee. "Do you want children, Tomin."

His face sparks with emotion, excitement, desire. "I have always dreamed of having a large family."

"Me too." It's a lie. One child tops, spoiled out of their mind and easily smarter than she is. That was the plan with husband number three. That's the plan now. Her and baby versus the world despite not being in the particular want of an infant.

But his grin is trusting, loving, and perhaps a bit playful. "Then perhaps we should get you well fed and in bulk."

"That sounds like a brilliant idea." Tries to throw the blanket from off her, but he still sits on the edge.

"And if the Ori see fit to bless us with a family, then I will not have want for anything else."

"Absolutely, I'm sure they will." Tugs on the blanket and finally he stands and places a sweet kiss on her forehead.

"Blessed are the Ori."


	3. Stoop to Folly

The Morning After

Chapter 3

Stoop to Folly

3.

They are under the influence. That's all it is.

The room, like the gala is decorated in mostly whites. The walls are a bland, off-white that picks up shadows very well and makes it seem larger than it really is. There are dark wooden bookcases that look to be antiques built right into the wall, and the color picks up on the wooden end tables and the headboard. White casts itself across the bed on his sheets, and the large fluffy pillows are still soft from being underused. She knows because he spends almost as much time at the complex as she does.

Golden morning light flashes from the window between wooden slated blinds and across the bed. She stretches her arms and is surprised when she doesn't hit him, but remembers how comically large the bed is, how they tumbled from one end of it to another. She wraps herself in the sheets tighter because they carry his natural scent, and rolls over to find his back to her, unmoving and soundless in a deep sleep.

She cannot help the grin plastering to her face, because she never would have wagered Daniel felt the same about her as she did about him. Throughout her three years at the SGC she's played off her advances on him as somewhat inside jokes between the to of them, since his reaction to her sexual interest was usually met with revolt. She doesn't know how he feels further than last night, but knows they shared something beautiful, something unique.

How he took his suit jacket off in the back of the chartered car and draped it around her shoulders when she started to shake in the seat opposite from him. How he wrapped an arm around her allowing her to steal some of his body heat away and used the closeness as a guise to explain more about the stars to her, when she casted her eyes to the sky following the tiny blips and bobbles of stars they've seen in person, up there, in space, they seemed so much more pertinent. Flashing around behind apartment complexes and thin needled pine trees, peeking in from behind the mountains as a source of navigation as their car puttered along side streets to his house. When he finished his lesson, he told her to not be so Sirius and she slapped his knee. It truly was like fairy-tale.

His house is a small, cozy two storey decorated with artifacts and busy with a life he's let slip by him. Permanently stained dishes in his sink, stacks of library books overdue by months, bills gathering at the door, various pain medication from the stress headaches he gets and always blames on her, she told him to get more sleep, more activity, less caffeine, more water, more sex.

The sex.

Somehow it was simultaneously their first time and their four hundredth. Hands cautiously sloping down the curves of her body yet knew exactly how to knead her hips down into the mattress, how to catch the side of her throat with his lips as she groaned, how to lick and suck until she was bruised to a matter of perfection, of artistry.

There was no frenetic energy, rush to complete by a morning timeline, only a willingness to please and an eagerness to learn. The way his fingers stroked from her hip to her thigh sends shivers through her in bed, and she turns to his dozing form, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

Feels the muscles in his chest and his back tense as he floats into consciousness letting out a few half syllables while still technically asleep, he never really does stop talking. From the side profile of his face his eyelashes flutter and he stretches out his back a bit. Her hands hook together softly against his ribs and she whispers in her most seductive morning after voice, "Good morning, Sleepyhead."

Expects him to grin at her, proud of their work last night, delighted in seeing her face, makeup smudged but in postcoital bliss. Maybe they'll go for breakfast at one of those charming little bistros downtown and she can finally have eggs benedict and he can explain what exactly eggs benedict are and why they're called by a formal name. Play foot games underneath the table and perhaps he'll call for the check early when she slides her toes along his thigh.

"Gah," he exclaims, and she feels all the muscles within him tighten against her body. His limbs flail as he tries to pull himself into a seating position but can never quite make it because she's locked on to him. "What are you doing?"

Understanding, she releases him from her embrace and watches as he topples to the ground out of the bed, flipping to rest on his hands and knees. "Darling, are you okay?"

His face burns a bright red as he fishes around on the end table for his glasses then slaps them onto his face, "What the hell are you doing here, Vala?" He's yelling at her, his face getting redder and his voice getting louder making her scooch to the other side of the canyon of a bed.

"I'm—I'm sorry, Daniel." Apologizes because perhaps this is his method with sexual encounters, prefers the women he brings home gone by morning. But he never mentioned any specific rules last night, they didn't even need a safe word for how in sync they were. "Was I supposed to leave, I don't remember you—"

In her preoccupation, the sheet from the bed slips from her hands and piles at her tummy while the red drains from his face, and instead it's blanketed in a ghostly white. "Cover up."

"Pardon?"

"Cover up." Slaps a hand over his glasses and fumbles blindly in front of him. "Cover up. Cover up" until two fingers pluck at the bed sheet. "Pull this up."

Wants to remind him that he did in fact see her naked last night, he undressed her, he lowered her to the bed, he spread her legs and stared at her directly while he emanated inside of her. "Daniel—"

"What the hell are you doing in my house, no, in my bed Vala. Why are you in my bed naked?" He's standing, no quite over her, but trying to give off the air of intimidation, only she doesn't think he realizes that he's naked as well.

"Daniel?" Presses her lips and blasts a lowering whistle while pointing to down.

His fury ceases and again his face is painted white while he flips around so his bare backside faces her instead. Wants to mock him and tell him the view is just as good, but he doesn't seem to be enjoying this morning as much as she is.

He roots around on the floor until he finds his undies kicked halfway beneath the bed in the throe of passion. A literal throw of passion on his part. He pulls them up and turns back to her, his face returning to red, his forehead wrinkly in anger and his teeth gritting. "What did you do."

"I didn't do anything, Darling, honest."

"Stop lying."

"I'm not." Her playfulness at the situation is depleting as he grows angrier and more distrustful with her. "Do you not remember what happened last night?"

"The last thing I remember is setting my cue cards for my speech in my suit jacket pocket."

She chuckles as he kicks around for more clothing, unable to look at her until he or her or both of them are more dressed. "You never gave the speech."

"What? There's no way I would miss that speech, I've been preparing for that speech for over a month." She pulls her lips back, not wanting to contradict him, he exhales loudly and dangles her bra between two fingertips before chucking at her. "I did go to the gala, I kind of remember it."

"You did." Snatches her bra up and begins clasping it behind her back. "We did."

"We—" Makes the mistake of turning and catching her mid clasp and 'gahs' and wrenches away again.

"Yes Daniel, we went to the gala, you told me how beautiful I was, how your speech didn't matter, we came back here, and we had sex." The idea of finding pants preoccupies him, pants which she knows are hanging off the thick wooden bannister on the stairs abandoned. Instead he pads to his chest of drawers, pulling out a cozy looking pair of sweatpants.

"No, we didn't."

"Yes, Darling, we did."

"No, we didn't because I don't remember it

"Yes, we did because I do."

And they start at each other, back to his old adamant ways, his inability to hear her or appreciate what she has to say when she's right and she can prove she's right with neck bruises. Just as she's about to apologize for apparently having taken advantage of him in a situation he engineered entirely himself, he snaps his fingers, "The box."

"What box."

"What do you mean—Hathor's box." He pulls on a black t-shirt and adjusts his glasses. "The dust I breathed in."

"What about it?"

"That's obviously why I was preoccupied with sex last night. It makes sense if it was some form of aphrodisiac and you were the first woman I encountered." His movements slow and his voice calms as he begins to rationalize his actions.

"I don't think it was all about sex." Bends her knees under the blanket and rests her head against them watching him continue to pace and search for discarded clothing. "You said beautiful words to me last night and the sex was sensitive and—"

"Stop. Stop." Rips his glasses off and pinches at the bridge of his nose. "If you want to make this up to me you can never mention it again."

"You came on to me."

"Yes, and you didn't sense anything wrong with that picture?" One sentence and all the loving caresses, all his whispers of adoration that prickled her skin are erased, because it truly was a fairy-tale. Speechless her looped arms shake against her knees and he sighs, "If you want to help, get out of bed and start researching that box."

"Of course." Flings the sheet off herself revealing her unclad lower half and moves slowly, purposefully to get out of his bed.

"Gah." Covers his eyes again and throws the blanket back over her. "Stay in bed until I find your clothes."


End file.
